


A Rabbit in the snake pit

by BardtheStark4



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-17 21:56:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18973399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardtheStark4/pseuds/BardtheStark4
Summary: 'The girl didn’t look like much of a wolf to him, more like a little snow hare caught in a blizzard. With her full lips, little feminine nose and doe-like eyes, she was certainly pretty. He’d seen better though, but what caught him off guard was that feline smile. Don’t trust this one. He thought to himself as Robert seemed so entranced by the girl.'A story where Sandor Clegane ends up being the only friend Lynnara Stark's got.(Rated M for Sandor. Because, y'know.)





	1. The rabbit and The Hound

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think of this story, since its my first every GOT fanfiction and I love Sandor so much. There isn't really any smut in this chapter but there will be in due time. Still rated M for language though.

Robert Baratheon stepped down his black steed with a slight struggle at his rotund belly. 

The month-long ride had been murderous on his back, no matter how many times they stopped at an inn or to hunt. It was only upon their arrival at the keep that he realised how his back clicked and creaked once his boots sunk into the mud below and he straightened his back. The afternoon was grey overcast and there was a chill in the air. As his friend and warden of the North would say, winter was indeed coming.

The keep was silent as he turned from his horse, eyes trailing over to the man in his thoughts finding his stood with his family. The years had been unkind to the man who had deep set frown lines and grey in his brown hair and beard. 

Ned eyed the King as he all but stormed over to him, a face of thunderous rage and he could hear Cat clear her throat quietly from her nerves beside her husband. The King stood before him, eyes roaming over him in a way that made Ned feel as small as a field mouse. Ned was gestured to stand straight from his kneeled bow, and everyone arose slowly and cautiously.

“Your Grace.” Ned bowed his head in respect for the King who stood before him with a dangerous scowl on his face. 

“You’ve got fat.” 

There was a pause before Ned raised an eyebrow and gestured down to Robert’s belly with his deep brown eyes. 

It was as if there was a muting spell upon the keep as everyone stood, watching the tense exchange in stunned silence before the two men erupted into laughter and everyone could let out a breath of relief, especially Catelyn. Robert took Ned into a friendly hug, patting his back harshly before setting his eyes on Ned’s wife, doing the same to her before messing little Rickon’s hair, Ned’s youngest child. 

“Nine years,” Robert let out a long breath of relief, his earlier serious demeanour exchanged for a more relaxed and Jovial one, “Why haven’t I seen you, where the hell have you been?”

Ned smiled at the King with a his haggard eyes. 

“Guarding the North for you, Your Grace.” 

Just then, emerging from the carriage was the golden-haired queen and her handmaidens and two children, the other sitting atop a horse smirking at the middle Stark daughter, Sansa, who fluttered her eyelashes back. Something the oldest child, Robb, a boy of seventeen noted begrudgingly as he looked between the two, a frown on his handsome face. 

“Winterfell is yours, Your Grace.” Ned bowed his head again.

Arya, the youngest daughter searched the royal party before turning to Sansa, disappointment in her deep brown eyes. “Where’s the imp?” 

“Would you shut up.” Sansa snapped, cheeks burning red in embarrassment at Arya’s bold question when the King was so close to them in proximity. 

It was at that moment when the King made his way down the line of Stark children, addressing Robb and shaking his hand firmly. 

“Aye, you’re a pretty one.” He nodded his head at Sansa who gave him a shy smile. He looked down at Arya who still seemed distracted by the idea of the imp, Tyrion Lannister before meeting his gaze with her strong, dark eyes. 

“And your name is..?” 

“Arya.” 

The king nodded his head in acknowledgement before moving onto to Bran, the second youngest. 

“Show us your muscles.” He chortled out a laugh when Bran flexed his small arm in a grin before mussing his hair. “Aye, you’re a strong one. You’ll be a soldier one day.”

He looked up from Bran to the girl holding his hand and his amused grin turned to a frown.

“Your Grace.” She bowed her head, hair falling over her shoulder, still clasping her little brother’s hand in a somewhat anxious fashion to the point where he turned his attention up to her, raising an eyebrow.

Robert’s mouth fell open slightly. The girl was short and waif-like but must have been in her late teens. Her hair fell short of her shoulders and was a dark chestnut blonde in colour, a lighter shade than her father’s. Her hazel eyes were downcast in respect for the King beneath full lashes and her nose was narrow but slightly snubbed. Her bow shaped lips were set in a gentle frown as she awaited his approval. A twang erupted in Robert’s chest, feeling a lump in his throat. 

“And your name?” 

The girl raised her gaze back to the king. 

“Lynnara.”

From beneath a steel helmet, Sandor Clegane eyed the oldest of Stark’s daughters. The girl didn’t look like much of a wolf to him, more like a little snow hare caught in a blizzard. With her full lips, little feminine nose and doe-like eyes, she was certainly pretty. He’d seen better though, but what caught him off guard was that feline smile. Don’t trust this one. He thought to himself as Robert seemed so entranced by the girl.

Robert nodded his head hesitantly before looking back to Ned who gave him a solemn smile and nod in return. The King moved back to Ned but not without giving the eldest Stark girl a nod as she watched him go with a piqued curiosity, her eyebrow raised at his queer behaviour. 

“That’s Jaime Lannister, the Queens twin brother!” Arya spoke excitedly as Jaime took off his golden helm, shaking his head so that his golden locks shook around him into an organised golden mane. 

“Would you please shut up!” Sansa hissed, sea foam eyes narrowing into slits as her younger sister sent a frown her way. Sansa lowered her eyes to the floor when Lyn looked over from the other side of Bran, giving the two looks of warning as her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pressed together in a stern manner. Lyn’s attention left the two before moving over the royal party from the golden hair of the queen, who trudged through the mud to allow Ned to kiss her hand respectfully, to the handsome Jaime Lannister and the two Baratheon children, before her eyes landed on the Prince atop his horse who’s eyes met hers. She quickly averted her eyes nervously, finding herself staring at the steel helm in the terrifying shape of a snarling dog. 

Her eyebrow raised in curiosity at the hulking man in the dog helmet atop the black steed. 

“Take me to your crypts, I want to pay my respects.” 

The queen turned her frown to her husband. 

“We’ve been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait.” 

Robert seemed to altogether ignore his queen, only gesturing for Ned to follow him, who nodded at the queen awkwardly and did as his King commanded. Cersei’s frown seemed to deepen at her husband’s blatant disrespect. Cat could only offer the woman a polite smile at the tense exchange. 

Lyn watched her mother and the Queen before beckoning her sister’s to follow her to their chambers where they would get ready for the feast that night in honour of the King’s arrival in Winterfell. 

.

It was dark when Lyn wrapped her arms around herself, in a vain attempt to protect herself from the chilly night air, her breath forming mist with every exhale. The pup at her feet yelped and barked, staring up at her with floppy ears. She put her fingers to her lips in a hushed gesture for him to keep quiet as walked past the stables, boots sinking in mud with every step. The afternoon had been spent preparing for the feast which ended up being less than fantastic. The King was jolly enough but amidst the merry making and music, there was a sour atmosphere that fell on it. The queen looked less than impressed to be here tonight. She thought, remembering the queen’s sombre expression throughout the evening. The only entertaining bit was when Arya sprung a spoon of brazed meat at Sansa’s dress. 

Lyn had watched with amusement from beside Robb as Sansa had cried, fussing over her spoiled dress that she’d spent so long creating. Arya laughed deviously before Catelyn gestured to Robb to handle the situation which he did begrudgingly, carrying Arya off to her chamber like a reprimanded little wolf pup. 

Lyn had excused herself after an hour of being there, wishing to get some air as she made her way to the Godswood. 

her hair that had been half tied back was released from the pins, falling over her shoulders. Winterfell was quiet at that moment, everyone being at the feast with the royal party. She spotted her father’s bastard as he practised with a bow. He turned her upon hearing her boots thudding along the now cobbled stone, giving her a smile. 

“Had enough of the feast?” His smile stretched further as she threw herself into his arms that wrapped around her. 

“I thought I’d go to the Godswood to read. Do you want to join me?” She muffled into his chest as he buried his nose in her chestnut hair, planting a kiss atop her head before pulling her off of him and smiling at her an arm’s length away.

“You know your mother would disapprove if she knew we were together. Now run along.” 

Lyn frowned up at him, furrowing her brows. Jon sighed. 

“Don’t give me that look.” 

“I just don’t understand why you care so much about what she thinks, Jon. I want to spend time with you, surely you would allow me that much? I’m your sister.” 

Jon hushed her as he watched her eyes well up, bringing her back into his arms. 

“I don’t want you to go.” She whispered solemnly, burying her head in his leather tunic. Jon smiled softly, stroking her hair that was so much lighter than his own. She’d taken it hard when Jon had revealed to her his plans of joining the Nightswatch in one of the few moments they were able to spend together.

“We meet tomorrow in the Godswood, okay? Whilst father goes on his hunt.” 

Lyn perked up again and wiped her eyes, nodding eagerly, smile returning to her rosy lips.

“Aye. Tomorrow.” 

She turned to the mottled amber pup, gesturing it to follow her. “Come on.”

The Godswood looked almost ethereal against the light of the moon in the night sky. Lyn always thought the woods looked like skeletal fingers in a black sea and would often imagine herself on a boat floating on the tide as a child. She always loved stories, especially the ones old nan would tell about the children of the forest and the long winter.

Lyn’s boots crunched twigs and leaves into mud as she curved around trees, trying to find the spot she’d been going to for years. It was a large tree, next to a body of water where she would often find her father sharpening his sword with a whetstone or just sat thinking. 

Two steps forward, take a left, past the big boulder and then a right.

The directions were almost instinct to her now after all of these years.

The wolf pup lay in her lap as she rested her book on its lithe little body, watching how the pages rose and fell with every one of its breaths. Earthquakes destroyed palaces, temples, and towns, while lakes boiled or turned to acid. The Fourteen Flames, the fiery mountains of Valyria, sent molten rock a thousand feet into the air, and red clouds rained down dragonglass. She read, her eyes flickering along the worn ink on the pages of the book, feminine fingers rubbing the spine of it, a habit she’d picked up when concentrating. 

The woods were quiet, apart from the occasional gust of wind swaying the trees and whistling through the branches. Lyn shuffled as she readjusted her shoulder blades against the weirwood tree trunk, attempting to get comfortable. She wouldn’t have heard the twigs snap against the ground if it wasn’t for Bard’s ears perking up before he started to whine and yelp. 

Lyn’s hazel eyes flickered up and she jumped at the sound of footsteps sinking through mud. 

“Well, well, what have I found? A wolf pup all alone in the woods.” A gruff voice growled out. Lyn pursed her lips and closed her book with a thud, causing her pup to jump out of her lap, looking between her and the man who stalked towards them, towering over Lyn in height. 

“Good evening, Ser. Who may I have the pleasure of addressing?” Her voice spoke with practised eloquence, he could tell. Sandor stared down at the pretty little girl, she had a voice that reminded him of the chiming of bells, and eyes that confidently kept his own gaze without faltering. 

he placed a hand on the hilt of his sword that was sheathed on his hip.

It was hard to make out his features without his helm in the dark, something he was pleased about. An owl hooted in the distance and Sandor’s eyes to the little rat at her feet. 

“The Hound. And I’m no Ser.” His voice reminded Lyn of a ship rocking back and forth on the Narrow sea amidst a summer storm, not that she knew what that sounded like. It was harsh and merciless, gruff and deep. With the look on the man’s face and the stumble in his step, it was obvious that the man was drunk.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, The hound. May I ask what your business being here may be?”

“What? I gotta have a fucking reason to take a piss in the woods?” He grunted and as if to emphasize his point, turned his back and, by Lyn’s imagination, pulled himself from his breeches. She could hear the pattering of his piss on the ground and she smiled. A long way from the keep to go for a piss, Ser. 

“You know, I’m sure that it’s bad luck to desecrate a Godswood like that.”

The hound only grunted, tucking himself back in his breeches and looking over his shoulder at her. She still looked like a feeble little rabbit, even under the darkness of night. He could almost see her wide, hazel eyes staring at him.

“I’ve enough bad luck already, so the Gods can go fuck themselves.” 

He paused when he saw the soft smile that was spread across the girl’s rosy lips and he frowned, eyes flickering to her Direwolf. 

“The fuck is that thing?” 

She looked to Bard who whimpered and yelped. 

“This is Bard.” 

The man snorted, rocking on his boots. 

“What kind of shit cunt would name a Direwolf after a poncy little shit like a bard?” 

Lyn’s smile stretched further. 

“This shit cunt, Ser Hound.” 

The man ran his teeth over his bottom lip, eyes never leaving the girl who sat in the dark of the woods, smiling up at him with this smug, shit eating grin. Her wolf pup sat, eyes also on the man as he took a step closer. The girl didn’t so much as flinch. 

“Such obscene words don’t seem quite right coming from your mouth, little Lady Stark.” 

Lyn’s smile remained as she cocked her head to the side. So, it was the man she saw under the steel, snarling dog helmet, riding behind the prince. She stood, brushing leaves off the skirts of her pale, yellow dress. She bowed her head lowly and curtsying. 

“I’m flattered that my lips hold such effect over you, Kind Ser. And he’s called Bard because he loves to sing.” 

As if to emphasize her point, the pup yelped and howled, almost as if it was a nervous twitch at this point. She smiled at him one last time before walking around him and away, wolf pup at her heels. She looked back at him over her shoulder to see that he’d turned and was watching her leave, pulling out a waterskin and taking a deep drink of wine.

Life suddenly got very interesting, indeed.

.

Sandor next saw the little lady Stark in the morning before he accompanied the King and Prince hunting in the woods. She was walking with her youngest brother, Rickard or something like that. He watched her walk past himself and the Prince, not failing to catch the small smile she sent his way. Joffrey had thought it was intended for him and gave a royal wave arrogantly. She held a sleeve up to her mouth as she stifled a laugh. He watched in awe. 

The hunt was slow and not very thrilling, Robert Baratheon being the only person who appeared to be enjoying himself as he managed to cut down a stag, Sandor had to snort at the irony of it. 

“So, what are your plans with your eldest daughter, Ned?” He heard Robert and Ned’s conversation from behind the Prince’s horse as he was seated on his own strong, dark horse. 

“Find her a rich husband who’ll look after her. I can’t watch over her forever. It only makes sense to find someone who will.” 

Sandor was unsure as to why, but he felt a heat curling in his stomach and he had to internally curse himself for his stupidity. 

“I hear the Tyrell boy’s still looking to court any young thing that’ll compensate for his love of sword swallowing.” 

Ned laughed and shook his head. 

“No, I want her to be happy with someone who will love her. I don’t think he’d be able to give her that, do you?” 

Robert only shrugged his shoulders. 

“Marriages aren’t about finding love but continuing the lineage of a house.” 

Ned gave Robert a disbelieving look as they trotted up the dirt path that lead to Winterfell.

“You don’t seriously believe that, Your Grace?” 

“She looks just like Lyanna.”

There it was. It was what Ned had been waiting for all along, seeing Robert’s pained expression the minute his eyes landed on Ned’s daughter. Ned frowned, bowing his head slightly. 

“Aye, that she does.”

Robert’s eyes were downcast.

“I almost thought it was her when I saw her, Ned.” 

If Ned had been close enough, he would have given his friend a reassuring pat on the back. It was true that Lyn looked very similar to his late sister, Lyanna, almost uncannily. The only differences were the hair and eyes. Lyn’s being lighter and her eyes being more oval shaped. 

“Your Grace, I…”

Before either could say another word, a scream erupted from the distance, a noise that sent crows flapping into flight in a start. Ned’s eyes grew as he gave Robert a look, both turning back to face the road ahead and kicking their horses into a gallop. 

Sandor and the hunting party did the same as they entered the great, brick garrison. Sandor pulled his horse’s reins to a halt when he saw the honourable Ned Stark all together jumping from his horse and desperately running over to the bottom of the tower where his second youngest child lay in a pool of blood. 

The sight itself didn’t stir any kind of emotion or feeling from the man, even when he saw young Lynnara Stark sobbing over the body, face pink and blotchy as tears fell over her cheeks, snot running from her nose. Their mother screamed for the maester, but it seemed to be too late. 

.

A month later, and they were preparing to leave for Kings landing.

Lyn had practically begged her father to allow her to ride it on horseback and though begrudgingly, he allowed it. Lyn hummed to herself as she loaded her saddle bags with books and apples for Kevan, her dapple-grey mare.

She inwardly chuckled when Kevan’s tail swished to and fro, whipping flies away and catching Lyn’s face. When Kevan was a foal, Lyn had thought she was a boy and gave her a strong, masculine name accordingly. It was only when Kevan grew big and strong, towering over Lyn tall enough for her to see the underside of Kevan’s belly did she realise that he was in fact a she. The mare whinnied, shaking her big head, making the chestnut-haired girl jump and slap the mare on the neck playfully.

“Lynnara Stark.” 

Lyn turned and felt her eyes well up, a lump expanding in her throat as she hurried over to her mother, her arms wrapping around Lyn’s waifish form as the two realised that it could very well be the last time that they would see each other for years. Especially if Ned made true on his plan to Marry her to a Lord. 

“Be good and look after Sansa and Arya for me.” Cat whispered, “And for goodness sake, be careful.” 

Lyn nodded and wiped her eyes as she looked over and saw Jon mounting his horse also. She barely got to say goodbye to him. The boy sent her a sympathetic look as his Gelding rode up to join the travel party. 

“I will, mother. Thank you.” 

Cat placed a hand on her eldest daughter’s pale cheek, giving her a soft look before the girl turned to Kevan, stretching up her dapple body to the top of the leather saddle and hopping up with her foot in the stirrup, swinging her other leg around to the other side. Father had allowed her to wear riding breeches for the occasion and she was thrilled at the opportunity. Despite the looks of disgust, she was getting from the Queen’s handmaidens and even the queen herself. Sansa rolled her eyes in the carriage where she was sat with their Sept and Arya, who stared in awe out of the window at her sister who grinned and waved back. 

Lyn gently pressed the heels of her riding boots into Kevan’s round sides and urged her on with a click of her teeth. 

She was enthralled as she looked around the moors whilst they all travelled along the Kings road. She didn’t see Jon when he’d left and she was glad, the aching she felt in her heart was enough. Arya still held onto the sword he’d gifted her. Lyn looked down beside Kevan to see Bard prancing along side the two, having grown to the size of a mastiff within the space of a month. His fur was still mottled amber but with flecks of grey amongst the white. He still whined and yelped as his amber eyes focused on the road ahead. 

As her thoughts shifted onto the idea of hounds, her hazel eyes flickered over to the Prince on his steed. She smiled to herself before directing Kevan around the carriage, spurring her into a trot. Sandor Clegane watched the road ahead with a bemused expression, dark eyes filled with thought as he stayed quiet before hearing approaching hooves thudding against the Kings road at a quicker speed than the others. He turned his head and immediately regretted it. 

“Oh, for fucks sake.” He growled. Lyn smiled at him, pulling on Kevan’s reins once she was beside him. 

“Hello, Ser Hound.” Her voice chimed musically. Sandor’s expression was dark as he swerved Stranger to the right to try and create a bit of distance between the two. 

“And what do I owe the pleasure, my lady?” He practically hissed, hating the fact that eyes were beginning to fall on The Hound and the Stark girl. Lyn brushed her honeyed hair out of her eyes as it fell from the bun at the back of her head. Sandor had his helm off and she could see his face. 

Over the past month, besides worrying about Bran, planning for the trip and looking after her younger siblings, she spent her time annoying the man she came to be fascinated with, Sandor Clegane. 

“I thought you might be missing me, Sandor. So, I decided to come and greet you.” She retained a laugh as the beast of a man scoffed to himself, his hulking form swaying as Stranger walked on at a speed that nearly made it a trot. 

“What are you doing.” He growled out in a whisper as the guards around them began whispering. “People are getting the wrong fucking idea.” It wasn’t proper for a beautiful young woman to be riding alone with a man like the Hound. The mere idea alone was suggestive. 

Lyn shrugged. 

“Let them. I was only going to ask you about what Kings landing’s like.” 

Sandor gave her a wary look. 

“Kings landing is a snake pit and you’ll be wise to trust no one. Do yourself a favour,” Lyn looked up to the man in shock, “Get yourself a rich Lord as soon as possible and get outta that city.” He grunted. Lyn’s eyebrow raised. 

“How do you know that I’m looking for a husband?” 

Sandor clicked his tongue. 

“Oh please, a pretty, unmarried little Lord’s daughter like you accompanying her father to the capitol, that usually only means one thing. Besides, all the men are fuckin’ prattling on about it.” 

Lyn laughed, covering her mouth as it bubbled out between her pink lips. 

“I never took you as one who participates in such motherly gossip, Hound.” 

Sandor’s head snapped to her, giving her deathly glare. 

“It’s not gossip if its true. That little cunt of yours has got every man around here hot under his armour. So, you’d better watch yourself, little rabbit.”

Lyn stopped laughing but her smile remained all the same, fighting the heat that wanted to flush her cheeks. 

“Does that include you too, Sandor?”

The man avoided her gaze, looking ahead as the Twins came into view. 

“Aye. That includes me.” 

Lyn’s smile stretched further as she bit her lip. Since she’d met the man in the Godswood, she took great pleasure in teasing him. It had escalated to near flirting since then. She eyed the Twins. If her Septa could hear their line of conversation, Lyn was sure the old woman would die of shock, a thought that made the honey haired girl want to laugh out loud all together. 

“Did you know I’m Robb’s year twin?” 

Sandor’s bored gaze returned to her. 

“And? What the fuck do I care?” 

“It means that we’re born exactly a year apart, the same name day and as well. Mother was happy to see father after the battle of the trident, after all and didn’t waste much time.”

Sandor pursed his lips. 

“I bet.” 

They spent some time in silence, riding together side by side, Bard yelping and whining to the left of Lyn as the sun came out through the clouds. The further south they rode, the warmer it had become. She noticed her father and the King had strayed from the royal party on their horses and she smiled. It was nice seeing her father so close to somebody that wasn’t a member of their family. Of course, family should always come first, but having friends was also important, something Lyn always felt she was missing. Huffing due to her newfound heat, she shed her fur cloak, draping it over Kevan’s rump. 

Sandor, sweating in his own black and leather armour, eyed the girl as her hips rocked to and fro in time to her mare’s walking. His eyebrows furrowed. She had only been wearing breeches, a cloth shirt and a leather tunic all along beneath the cloak and the slim fit of it all was positively criminal. The girl’s eyes caught him beneath those feminine lashes as he frowned, turning his head. Lyn smiled, patting Kevan, reaching into her saddle bag for an apple, stretching forwards to nudge Kevan’s long jaw with it as she turned and sniffed it before taking it in her buck teeth. 

“Good girl, Kevan.” She cooed, rubbing her palm up and down Kevan’s long neck. Sandor rolled his eyes, landing a scowl on the road ahead. 

“Why am I not surprised that you named your mare something fucking stupid as well.” He snapped. Lyn blinked up at him. 

“Hey, Kevan’s a very normal name.” 

“A man’s name.” 

“So?” 

Sandor huffed and took his water skin from the side of his horse, taking a long gulp of wine. Lyn watched with curiosity, catching his eyes as he drank. Slowly, Sandor pulled the waterskin from his lips. 

“What?” 

A smile returned to Lyn’s lips. 

“Nothing. Would your horse like an apple?” She reached into her bag before Sandor’s voice stopped her. 

“I wouldn’t, unless you want to lose a finger or two. Stranger doesn’t like to be fussed over.”

As if to reinforce the Hound’s point, the big black horse turned with flat ears and nipped at Kevan when she came too close, causing the dapple-grey mare to whinny and panic. Lyn’s eyes widened as Kevan started to swerve off course and shake her head and the girl could see herself being thrown off the horse and into the mud, she might even break an arm or wrist. She pulled on Kevan’s reins and just when she thought she was going to eat shit, a great big gloved hand wrapped around her reins and tugged, causing Kevan to snap out of her panic and calm herself. Lyn exhaled a breath of relief and scowled at the man who held her reins. 

“Trust your horse to be as grumpy and mean as you, Ser Hound.” She glared over at him and he bit back a chuckle. 

“Next time, you can eat shit, then. I won’t stop you.” 

Lyn’s frown soon turned into a smile again, once that stretched and made the dimples in her cheeks sink coyly. Sandor cleared his throat and looked ahead. A few horses ahead, Prince Joffrey turned his head to watch his dog and his lips pinched into an ugly frown upon seeing the eldest Stark sister riding alongside him. 

.


	2. A Hateful Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lynnara comes to realise what the Hound is and does for the Prince and begins to hate him for it. But does she really?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains absolute filth. no smut still but very graphic mental imagery and language. So proceed with caution.

When they’d got to the Crossroads inn, Sandor had had just about enough of the young woman who was chatting his ear off about just about everything. He turned sharply, a large gloved hand clutching hold of Stranger’s reins tightly, making a squeaking crunch from the sound of leather against leather. 

“Go find your daddy, little girl. If you don’t mind, I’ve a job to do. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t get in the fucking way of it.” He growled, half expecting her to run away with her tail between her legs. But instead, she did the opposite which he also half expected. She smiled, clasped her hands behind her back coyly and fluttered her eyelashes at him. 

“But I’m very much so enjoying your company, Ser Hound. More so than I have with anybody else.”

Sandor eyed her warily before an idea came to him. 

“You ever been fucked before, little rabbit?”

This seemed to take the girl by surprise and slowly she shook her head, lost for words for once in her life it seemed to the Hound. Sandor let go of Stranger’s reins and smoothed his gloved hand over the leather saddle, his other land hand curling around the stunned girl’s shoulder. 

“You want me to fuck you, is that it?” 

Lyn blushed and shook her head. 

“What? No, I- “She muttered softly. Sandor leaned into her ear.

“You want me to take you round the back and tear my cock into you like I’d do with a common whore? Watch you scream as I touch you in places those short little fingers of yours could never reach?” His voice was hot and gritty against her ear and she let out a whimper at his words which could almost be misheard for a moan. “Listen to you cry as I split you in two?” 

Lyn pulled away, face undeniably red. 

“I know what you’re doing, Ser Hound. I understand, I’ll go and bother someone else.”

Sandor watched her leave, leading Kevan away with Bard at her heal, stalking after her like the wolf he was growing into. She looked over her shoulder at him once with her face still a dusty shade of pink and red, hot under the sun. 

Lyn led Kevan to the stable, fisting some hay for her to gnaw on from her hands as Lyn was lost in thought. 

“You two seem to be getting along well.” 

Lyn averted her eyes to the voice, finding the golden Prince standing there, shocking blue eyes glistening mischievously with hidden intent, his lips half open in a smirk. Lyn looked to the Hound who had his hand on the hilt of his sword, a look of annoyance across his half-charred face as he focused his attention anywhere but on her. Lyn smiled at Joffrey.

“Sandor is a very kind and amusing man to be around, My Prince. I find his company very entertaining indeed.” 

Joffrey guffawed out a laugh, the Hound rolled his eyes and Lynnara took a step back, a frown coming to her face. 

“Who? This Hound? Oh, my lady. What an amusing joke.” He clapped his hands together. But his grin fell when Lyn continued to stare at him. “Oh, you’re serious? Well then, that’s unexpected. You do understand what the Hound is paid by my family to do, don’t you?” 

Sandor seemed even more irritated at the boy’s words, finding himself looking even further away from the young woman who just stared up at him. Joffrey continued to grin at her in an unsettling way. He reminded her of a monster in one of Old Nans stories.

“He’s my sworn sword. If I want somebody dead, he kills them in a heartbeat. If I asked him right now to rape you and slit your throat, he’d do it. Because he’s a killer. And he swore an oath to protect me and do as I wish. This ‘kind and amusing man,’ as you so delicately put it is no more than a murderer.” 

Lyn’s eyes turned cold at the two. She wasn’t sure if she believed the boy. In a matter of two minutes of speaking to him, she already couldn’t stand the little monster that was to be King someday. The boy bit his lip, his eyes roaming over the girl who was older than him. 

“When I come of age, I’ll put a son in your little sister, after we’re wed. Would you like that, Wolf Bitch? Maybe I’ll put a son in you too.”

She could see no emotion being given away from the man behind him who towered over him like a giant. She gave the boy the coldest look she could muster, turning the little cunt’s amused smile into a challenged frown.

“Make idle threats all you want, you little cunt. But the minute you learn how to find your own tiny cock in those royal breeches, I’ll let your dog strike me from my stupor.” She hissed, Bard sensing his master’s defensive behaviour stalked in front of her, growling lowly and staring up at the golden boy with steady amber eyes, his nervous tick turning his growls into hiccups. Joffrey pursed his lips together angrily but fearfully, looking from the still growing wolf pup to the oldest Stark girl who glowered at him from the shadowed stable. 

“I’ll remember that, you little bitch!” He spat, pointing in her direction viciously before storming off. Bard licked his lips and sat, his tail wagging as he whined, looking up to Lyn who looked to Sandor. The man pursed his lips, not finding the situation as amusing as the girl who grinned up at him. 

“You ought not to anger him, little rabbit. The Prince isn’t one to forget petty insults and I won’t be getting in his way when he follows through on his threats.” 

Lynnara frowned and unsaddled Kevan who shook her great head before sniffing the girl who curled her hand around the mare’s rubbery, stubbled muzzle. Sandor gave the girl one look before stalking away. She looked down at her wolf pup, feeling worried and anxious for the first time in her life. She didn’t like that boy, whatsoever. And he was to be little Sansa’s husband and King. 

.

She hadn’t been there but during the evening, when Joffrey had come back to the travelling royal party, cradling a bloody arm with Sansa crying in tow, she instantly thought to Arya who hadn’t been seen all day after heading down to the riverside with Mycah, the butcher’s son.

She watched, chewing her lip as Arya was brought in why the guards in front of the King, their father, the Queen and Joffrey who stood, glowering at her little sister. She fought back the bile as Robert called upon Sansa who walking in, head bowed. Robert beckoned for her stand before him. 

“Now child,” Sansa sheepishly stepped to where he’d directed and Lyn’s eyes burned into her, worry rising like the ocean tide within her. “Tell me what happened. It’s a great crime to lie to a King.” Robert spoke with a Northern twang. Sansa looked close to tears as she summoned the words to say. Arya watched her older sister with anger in her big, round eyes. 

“I... don’t know, your Grace.” She paused, looking over to Lyn who pursed her lips before the fair girl averted her gaze back to the floor. “It all happened so fast; I can’t recall what happened.” 

Arya suddenly lunged at her sister, grabbing her by the hair causing her to let out a sob.

“Liar, liar, liar!” She screamed, grabbing more fistfuls of hair and tugging in a childish rage. Lyn jumped into action and pulled the youngest sister off Sansa, bringing her face to look at her. 

“Do not do that, Arya!” She hissed quietly, stern face looking down at Arya’s furious one. The girl struggled out of her older sister’s grasp as Lyn looked to their father who furrowed his deep-set brow. Cersei glowered down at Arya. 

“The girl’s as wild as her animal. I want her punished.” She snapped viciously. Robert turned his hateful gaze to her. 

“What would you have me do, whip her through the streets?” He bellowed, causing Lyn to jump. Robert turned to get up out of his chair with slight struggle due to his weight. 

“Ned, have your daughter punished and I’ll do the same for my son.” 

Ned bowed his head and Lyn and just about everyone in the room let out a breath of relief. 

“Yes, Your Grace.” 

As they turned to leave, they were brought back to the matter at hand by the vile woman Lyn had suddenly grown to hate. 

“And what of the wolf? What of the beast that attacked your son?” She growled, Robert paused and looked to the floor, letting out a deep breath. 

“Aye, I forgot about the damned wolf.” 

“No traces of the beast were found, Your Grace.” 

Lyn curled a hand around the back of Arya’s neck whether it was to comfort the girl or herself, she did not know. Robert looked to his wife. 

“Well, there you have it.” 

“We have another wolf, do we not?” 

Lyn’s heart thudded with fear thinking to Bard, poor nervous, ticking Bard outside in the stables with Kevan or chasing the inn keeper’s cat across the dirt roads. Robert looked glumly to Cersei who held a smug smile at the thought of getting justice for her pristine cunt of a son. 

“As you will.” 

Lyn’s horrified eyes looked to Ned who nodded to her and stopped Robert. 

“You can’t mean it.” 

Robert shook his head. Sansa finally began to come to terms with what would be happening shortly. 

“A direwolf’s no pet. Get her a dog, she’ll be much happier.” He said looking to Sansa who began to sob. 

“No, you can’t mean Lady, Lady wouldn’t hurt anyone. Lady’s good!” She cried, fresh tears forming in her eyes. Lyn raised a hand to her mouth in horror and Robert looked over to her before pursing his lips and stalking off. 

“Lady didn’t do anything!” Arya shouted at Cersei who just cocked her head, the same feline smile on her lips and Joffrey smirked down at the three Stark girls, his eyes landing on Lyn. He wouldn’t. Before the boy could say anything regarding Bards protective behaviour earlier in the day, Ned turned to Robert. 

“Is that your command, Your Grace?” Their father’s voice broke as he called out to Robert who just nodded his head once and left the room. 

Lyn shook as she stormed out from the room, the skirt of her freshly washed skirts flowing behind her as tears formed in her eyes. She reeled it all over in her head. She should have said Bard. It would have spared her sisters some grief. She was sure they’d hate her now. As she left the Inn, she walked down towards the stables, sobs wracking her body as she covered her mouth where she heard hooves. She moved to the side as the man she’d grown friendly with led his horse up the dirt road, his armour rattling upon every step. On the back of Stranger was a bag covered in blood and just hanging out of the bag she could see a head with two empty eyes staring at her. She just made out the shimmer of red from the light of the sconces on the brick walls. 

“That’s-“ 

“Aye. The butcher’s boy.” He growled. Lyn realised that her father had joined her, staring at the body in stunned disgust.

“You rode him down!” He cried out, voice wavering for the poor lad. Lyn cried into her father’s tunic, never having seen a dead body before. Especially not one so young and gored. She was beginning to think this trip to the capital was a mistake. And she had high hopes that her father would feel the same and decide to return with herself and her sisters. 

Sandor looked back completely indifferently, not a hint of emotion on his face. Like a natural born killer. He eyed the girl who stared at him now with an expression he was all too familiar with. Hate.

“He ran. Not very fast.” He snapped, leading stranger around the corner. Ned began walking down to where Lyn had seen Lady chained and she immediately took off in the other direction. 

She didn’t sleep that night. 

.

The travelling party had stopped so that the King was able to go on a hunt before they’d reached Kings landing after a month of travelling. Lyn hadn’t spoken so much as a word to the Hound since the night he’d butchered the butchers boy and anytime he met her gaze as she stared at him, her eyes would turn fierce, but she’d yet to pull them away from him, always waiting for him to be the first to take his eyes off of her. And she’d grown to learn that Sandor Clegane was a stubborn man. So, it would be ten minutes each time before his cunt of a Prince would distract him.

When the Queen had spotted Lyn’s Direwolf pup, she’d demanded the beast be given the same fate as Lady. The King had bellowed at her that one dead beast was enough but not without giving Lyn a soft look that really confused the girl. He’d looked to her as if he knew her. 

“You know that glaring at the man won’t change anything that has happened. You’re just angering yourself.” Her father spoke with a soft undertone. Lyn narrowed her eyes at the dark man on the even darker horse, letting her father’s words go over her head.

“He murdered that boy in cold blood. All because that little shit ordered him to. He’ll have no mercy from my scowls of hatred.” 

Ned grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and pointed a finger at her. 

“You’re not too old to be disciplined, my girl. I suggest you watch that tongue of yours.” 

Lyn’s lip wavered as she fought back tears but sucked them back when she saw the object of her hatred look her way. Ned placed a hand on her head as he mounted his horse, his steed galloping off in the direction of the King. Lynnara pulled a book from her saddle bag and an apple before leading Kevan underneath a large ironwood tree that had grown too far South. She plopped down to the floor, crossing her legs and opened the book, scanning her eyes over the page to find where she’d read to. 

“Something the matter, girl? You’ve been avoiding me like grey scale these past couple of weeks.”

She was suddenly aware of the thudding of hooves as a shadow was cast over her small body. Lyn turned her nose up at the man who stared down at her. 

“No, I’m simply too busy having a strong moral compass to fraternise with murderers.” She snapped, taking a bite out her apple. Sandor scoffed out a spiteful laugh. 

“Still crying over your butcher’s boy, are you?” 

Lyn threw down her book and gave the man a heated glare. 

“And rightly so. That boy did fuck all wrong to you!” She spat, the man pursed his lips and spun his body around, landing on the ground with a harsh thud, metal armour clanking and rattling as he did. He grabbed her arm, pushing her against the tree, his thick, veiny scar went further down his face than she’d originally noticed. Bard began hiccupping out growls as the man fought off Lyn’s hands that attempted to slap him. He finally had them pinned above her head, leaving her chest a bit too exposed as it rose up and down under his wandering gaze. 

“You think that you’re better than me just because you’ve never stabbed a sword through a butcher’s boy’s belly? Think again,” He shoved her hands back against the tree, the bark scratching into her skin. “Your father’s killed people, your brothers will kill people, seven hells, I’m sure one day you’ll probably kill someone so don’t bitch and moan to be because I was doing my duty as the Prince’s sword!” He growled out; his face so close to hers that she could feel it fanning over her. It smelt of wine and salted meat. Her face softened to a scowl. 

“That someone one day will be you.”

The man sneered and let her go, Lynnara stormed over to Kevan and shoved her foot into the stirrup but not before throwing an apple at the hulking man’s armoured chest in a pitiful attempt to hurt him. He didn’t even flinch, just watched her ride off into the direction or the travelling party. 

.

When they arrived at Kings landing, Lyn couldn’t do anything but glower the whole way. She no longer wanted to be there and Sandor’s earlier words of referring to Kings landing as a snake pit rang like an alarm bell through her mind. She felt unsafe and she felt that her family were unsafe. 

“Get the girls settled in. I’ll see you at dinner.” Their father spoke before heading indoors to meet maester Pycelle. 

Lyn turned to her sisters who were also looking glum, she hid her dislike for the city and put on a smile. 

“Come on, lets go and get all dressed up for dinner.” She directed at Sansa before placing a hand on Arya’s head. “And we can learn to fight with a sword whilst we do it.” She whispered down to her littlest sister who’s frown turned into a relieved smile. 

They each had their own chambers that were big enough to easily fit half of Winterfell in. Not comfortably though, mind you. Lyn called upon the handmaidens to draw her a bath which was brought into her room by three each carrying a different part of the silver basin. 

“Thank you.” She said, smiling and the three girls shared a weary look before going to bring in the buckets of warm water. Lyn went behind the screen to strip herself of her riding clothes that were in desperate need of washing before releasing her hair from its neat updo, allowing the chestnut blonde tresses to fall over her pale shoulders. 

She heard a bucket clatter on the floor as she finished removing her small clothes. 

“Thank you, ladies, I should be able to wash my own hair so I’ve no need for your services any longer.” She spoke eloquently before she was about to round the screen with her book in hand. She stopped instantly. 

“And what services would you like me to provide, my lady?” A growling voice spoke from the other side of the screen. Lyn’s eyes narrowed as she went to grab some clothes but realised that the handmaidens had took them to be washed. Shit. She hissed internally. 

“Unless you feel like throwing yourself over the balcony and into Blackwater, none.” She spat like a striking viper. She heard an unorthodox chuckle rumble out of the man’s chest as his footsteps grew closer.

“Such a cold thing to say, little rabbit. But do you truly mean that?” His voice was guttural and deep and sounded as if it was just on the other side of the screen. She looked up and due to his height, she could see the top of his head. 

“What do you want, dog?” She snapped, crossing her arms. The man paused for a moment before continuing. 

“The King requested that I check on you and ask that you join him for dinner tonight.” 

Lyn narrowed her eyes, not wholly trusting this man. 

“Well, you may tell the King that I hate his cunt son and his dog and that I will be dining alone tonight in my chambers with my wolf that only just escaped death thanks to his hissing serpent of a wife.” 

“I’d no idea you were such a spiteful little bitch.” He growled, placing a gloved hand on the patterned screen. Lyn had half expected him to rip the thing away and ravish her by the tone of his voice. 

“And to think, just a few weeks ago I had you blushing like a virgin just by talking about fucking you alone.” 

Lyn’s eyes widened as the heat returned to her cheeks, eyebrows knitting together as a heat shot down to in between her legs. She was suddenly aware of how very naked she was and how only a simple, paper screen was the only thing keeping them a part. A hand went to her chest as she slid it down over the swell of her breasts and her pebbled, mocha nipples. 

“Sandor…” She whimpered out as she heard his heavy breathing, could practically see his chest rising and falling behind paper. She wondered how much of her he could see.

“I can see everything you’re doing there, little rabbit. Have you been touching yourself at night thinking about me? Do you see how many fingers you can get in before it hurts? I can fucking promise you now that you wouldn’t have enough fingers on each hand combined to make up the size of this cock that could tear you in two.” He snarled and she was tempted to let him have her, the pleasurable ache between her legs becoming too much. She walked around the screen and into his line of sight, the soft padding of the soles of her feet on stone floors filling his ears as he did nothing but stare at her, almost like she was daring him to touch her. His eyes travelled her body in an instant, taking in her slim figure, curves that even her tight riding clothes had hidden. His eyes were transfixed on the supple but perky swell of her breasts, the mocha coloured areolas and pebbling nipples that stood to attention. 

His eyes travelled down her firm stomach to the waving golden hair of her pubis that was just light enough so that he could see the lips of her cunt. Her hands went to thread through her hair as she turned her body, giving his full view of her firm, pale ass that glowed at him like the light of a candle. 

He so wished that he could grab each globe, spreading them a part harshly and-

“Away with you Hound. Tell the King that I’ll be joining him for dinner tonight. And request that you escort me there.” She smiled up at him as she walked around him and stepped into the bath, sinking into the hot water with a hiss and dipping her hair in. 

Sandor grunted before bowing and leaving without a word. He’d have to go somewhere to relieve himself, the hardened flesh beneath the cod piece had become undeniably hard and painful.


	3. A not so innocent wolf-girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lynnara craves the attention of the Hound. But will he give in to her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING. Like, tons of smut in this chapter. Like, it is absolute filth. More so than the last chapter. Just be warned. I never planned on it being this way, it just happened Dx

Sandor returned to the King’s chambers after spending a good ten minutes relieving himself in a nearby privy, the feel of his rock hard cock as he pumped it with his gloved fist, the thought of those mocha coloured nipples still fresh in his mind as he imagined what it would feel like to take one in his mouth and suck. He could hear practically heard the whimpers coming from in between those plump, pink lips

“Sandor…” That sound, seven hells. He cleared his throat and supressed the thoughts of her pale, Bare body standing so sinfully before him.

His clenched fist wrapped on the heavy door before it opened and there stood the fat King in his breeches and cloth shirt. A sight that could kill any case of stiff cock.

“Any news?” 

“Aye, she’s agreed but requested that I personally escort her.” Robert raised a brow at the strange statement. “For protection.” Sandor finished. The man let out a belly aching laugh and slapped the Hound on the side of his arm. 

“As if you even you could protect her from me.” He held his belly and turned into his chambers, leaving the door open for Sandor to follow him inside. The man grimaced at the thought of the fat King rolling around his King-sized bed with the little rabbit beneath him. 

“Not to worry, dog. I’ve no intention of harming the little lady, if that’s what that look’s about. I would disrespect Ned Stark like that.” Robert plopped down into his chair, pouring himself and the Hound a glass which the taller man took cautiously. Spending enough time around the little shit, Joffrey was enough to make any man wary of kind gestures. 

“I only want to spend time with her.” He muttered out, taking a deep swig of the wine and Sandor did the same, eyeing the King carefully. It made him wonder who Lyanna Stark was to the man. He knew she was Ned Stark’s late sister who had been raped and killed by Rhaegar Targaryen, son of the mad King Aerys. 

“Have you ever loved somebody so much and lost them without ever being able to say goodbye, dog?” If they stood in a noisy room, Sandor probably wouldn’t have heard the man, his voice raspy and barely above a whisper. So that’s what this was about. Sandor finished his cup of wine and gave the man a purse of his lips which looked like an awkward half smile. 

“Your Grace.” He bowed his head before taking his leave with a nod of the King’s head. 

.

Lyn braided Sansa’s hair as Arya twirled and played with her sword, pretending in her head that she was fighting off some twenty knights all in steel armour and her, wearing nought but a dress and her trusty needle was quick and skilled enough to hold her own. Sansa rolled her eyes at her little sister. 

“Father’s never going to allow you to fight so you may as well give it up.” She sneered, making Arya swish and slice her sword at her sister who gasped and ducked. Lyn laughed and avoided the sword, faking shock and putting a hand to her chest, letting go of Sansa’s long, ginger hair as it unravelled in curls. 

“Here she comes. Arya Stark. The little wolf and the fiercest she-warrior of Westeros!” She spoke in a deep and decrepit voice, pretending to be Maester Luwin by the sounds of it. Arya grinned, her wide eyes lighting up in excitement. Sansa gave Lyn a stern look and she cleared her throat. 

“I mean, don’t wave that thing at your sister. That’s very dangerous.” 

Arya frowned and scowled at Sansa who smiled innocently in return, curtsying. Sansa ran her hand down Bard’s furry coat as he ticked and yelped, licking her hand. 

“I wish Lady was here.” She spoke solemnly. Arya stopped twirling and looked over at her sister. 

“And Nymeria.” Her eyes averted to the floor as her eyes began to well up with tears. Lyn frowned and her eyebrows furrowed. She hated the Queen for what she’d done to hurt her sisters so spitefully. If she hadn’t hated her for being a sour faced old bitch already, she definitely hated her now for being an evil, sour faced old bitch. 

“Don’t let father see you cry.” 

Arya spun to Lyn. 

“It’s his fault they’re gone. He should have said something!” 

Lyn tutted and outstretched her arms, Sansa just watching the exchange sullenly, eyes downcast and sad. Arya ran to Lynnara’s open arms, the older girl wrapping them around her little sister, chin on top of her head.

“Do you think Lady and Nymeria would be happy if they were cause of another war between the North and South?” 

Arya bit her lip before shaking her head. 

“No.”

Lyn smiled sadly. 

“Exactly. Do you understand why father had to do it? He’s a good man. And a smart one. Sometimes, we have to do things we don’t really want to do in order to keep the peace and to protect the ones we love.” She wiped Arya’s face as the little girl stared up at her sister. Instantly, the image of the bloodied bag of Butcher’s boy’s limps and body parts flashed through her mind and she hugged the little girl to her chest, staring into space. 

.

Ned Stark entered his daughter’s chambers and was instantly greeted by Bard who trotted up to the man, wagging his tail and letting out whines and barks. Ned rubbed the growing Direwolf’s muzzle, smiling. 

“Good boy.” 

“Father!” Arya ran over to him and jumped on him, squeezing him tightly and he let out a chuckle as Sansa stood from the table where she was sat with their Septa who looked down her nose at Arya’s vulgar display of affection that was improper for a little girl. Sansa smiled and her father picked Arya up, squeezing her causing her to giggle as he strode over and brushed his finger beneath Sansa’s chin, making her smile widen. He looked around and found Lynnara on the balcony, overlooking Blackwater bay with a smile on her lips. The noise of the gulls was relaxing to her, the sound of the water lapping the rocks even more so. 

“Lyn, do you not love your father so much as to not welcome him when he steps into your chamber?” 

Lyn’s head turned as she smiled widely at him, her chestnut blonde hair looking almost golden in the sun of Kings landing. His breath caught in his throat. Robert was right, she was starting to look more and more like Lyanna each day. She skipped in and grabbed him by the face, planting a big kiss on his cheek, making him laugh out, showing his brilliant teeth amongst the beard that was growing on his aging face. 

“I’m dining with the King tonight upon his request, father.”

Ned’s smile dropped instantly, causing Lyn to frown suddenly. The atmosphere in the room grew heavy and the Septa hurried Arya and Sansa out of the room despite their worried glances over to Lyn who just smiled falsely at them before looking back to her father whose eyes were downcast. 

“Lynnara,” Here we go, she thought to herself. He only called her that when she was about to lecture her about the ways of the world. “Whilst I have the utmost respect for our King and love him like a brother, I cannot support some of his life choices. Such as his love of women and drink.” 

Lyn went to speak but Ned held his hand up.

“Now, let me speak. After I’ve finished, you may talk. The King is at his weakest when it comes to beautiful young women and although I will presume that his intentions are good, one cannot always anticipate what will happen when wine is involved. Or a beautiful young woman who reminds him of a love lost long ago. Did I ever tell you about your Aunt Lyanna?” 

Lyn blinked up at him. 

“You told me that I look a lot like her.” 

Ned nodded solemnly. 

“Aye. That you do. Well, Lyanna was beautiful, just like you. And our King was intending to marry her after the battle of the Trident was won. It wasn’t just a political marriage that quite often happens in this day and age, but a marriage out of love. He was madly in love with your Aunt. And when she died, he almost went mad with grief.” 

Lyn thought back to when the King had arrived in Winterfell and demanded he be taken down to the crypts almost immediately upon arriving, despite being tired from the month-long journey there. 

“Do you understand, Lynnara?” 

The girl slowly nodded her head. Her father put a hand on her shoulder, and she peered her hazel eyes up to him. 

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t go. I’m happy that he wants to get to know my children more, and I’m sure his intentions are good. But it never hurts to be cautious.” 

With that, there was a knock on the door. 

“Come in.” 

Ned turned, hands on hips and instantly frowned at the man who towered in the doorway, his defences up. The man shrouded in heavy set black and steel armour turned his attention to the young girl at her father’s side, dressed in a flowing, summery pink gown who flushed the same colour as her dress at his attentions. Ned furrowed his brows. 

“I’m to escort the Lady to the King’s chambers.” 

Ned narrowed his eyes at the man, not trusting him one bit after recognising him as the man who cut down the butcher’s boy. Lyn looked up at her father with doe-like eyes before he pursed his lips and nodded to her to go. Sandor gave Ned one last bemused glance before slamming the door shut and all Ned could do was slump in the chair and rub his hand along his jaw, Bard walking over with a permanent whine and nudging his other hand with his nose, as if sensing the man’s worry and feeling the same. 

.

Once the door was shut, the girl twirled on the heels of her shoes and smiled up at the man. 

“Good evening, Sandor.” 

The man pushed her up against the pillar outside of the room. 

“Suppose you think that little trick before was funny, do you, girl?” He growled in her ear and she fluttered her eyelashes up at him, dragging a hand down his steel plated armour, causing his breath to hitch in his throat and a jolt of tingling nerves to buzz in his well-protected member. 

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, dog.” She cooed before turning, causing the man to frown, his eyes sinking into a glower as he watched her walk, no longer being able to see her in the same way he did before. Un-naked. 

He grabbed her wrist and spun her, grasping her slender arm so tight that she was sure it would leave a bruise. 

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but it won’t work on me, you little bitch. I’ve had prettier, curvier women than you try and woo me and it hasn’t worked so you can stop…” 

He swallowed his words when she tugged the low cut of her dress to the side, exposing a nipple and his eyes trailed over it, drinking the sight in. 

“You were saying, Clegane?” 

Boldly, the man reached out and brushed his thumb over the now hardened nipple, watching it in almost a trance as he toyed with it using only his gloved thumb. His teeth ran over his lower lip as his eyes flickered up to her flushed face that was twisted in sinful pleasure at his ministrations. 

Upon hearing footsteps, the Hound retracted his hand and the girl quickly readjusted her gown. Smiling coyly and waving as a handmaiden walked past. 

They walked the rest of the way in silence, Lyn occasionally daring to lift her eyes up and look at the man to her right who stiffly stalked her to King Robert’s chambers before bowing his head and leaving without a word. She smiled to herself and knocked on the door. 

.

Robert opened to door and greeted the girl with a smile, gesturing for her to come in as he stepped to the side. Lyn was suddenly very aware of her father’s words and the fact that she was all alone with the King who was known to be a drinker and a whoremonger. She looked around the King’s chambers finding it to be at least twice as large as her own. The King, who was dressed in a brown leather tunic and breeches poured two glasses of wine. 

“A drink, girl? Lynnara was it?” 

Lyn smiled bashfully and came to the table. 

“Lyn.” 

The King stopped pouring and threw a look to the girl who nodded, and he continued to pour. 

“So, Ned tells me you’re in the capital with intent on finding a husband.”

Lyn took a sip of her wine as he sat down before her and gulped his own wine down, cheeks already rosy from drinking all day, she guessed. Lyn nodded hesitantly. 

“No need to be so shy, girl. I won’t bite. Yet.” He laughed and she let out a nervous giggle, eyeing him warily. Robert shrugged his shoulders slightly and inhaled a deep breath. 

“Well, there’s plenty of strapping young men down South who would happily snatch up a Northern beauty like yourself. Unless that is, you prefer the older gentleman.” He purred, his Northern twang husky and sensual. Lyn gulped down her wine this time, adamant that she would survive this encounter with her virginity intact.

An hour in and Robert had told the girl near enough everything about himself and the history of the seven Kingdoms in doing so, nearly lulling the girl to sleep as he went on and on about this, that and just about everything she really had no interest in until there was a knock on the door. 

“Yes, yes. Come in.”

The Hound opened the door and bowed his head, eyes landing on the girl who sat up straight, wobbling slightly. She was drunk. He cleared his throat. 

“Lord Stark has requested that his daughter return to him, Your Grace.” 

The girl stood and realised that they hadn’t actually eaten anything, and she’d barely said a word throughout the whole hour she’d been there. She’d mainly consumed four goblets of wine and tried desperately not to fall asleep. 

“Your Grace, it has been an honour. But now I must retire to my head and rest my bed.” She slurred, bowing sloppily and stumbling, nearly tripping over her skirts, causing the King to let out a deep and booming belly laugh. 

Sandor managed to catch the girl around her slim waist as she nearly fell down the steps and the King wiggled his eyebrows at Sandor who tutted in return, giving the King an unimpressed look. 

Shutting the door, the small girl leaned up against it and gave Sandor a smouldering stare.

“I want you to fuck me, Sandor.” 

The man growled and pulled her away from the door, shushing her with his finger which she took great pleasure in sucking on. The man groaned. 

“Stop it, you’re drunk, and we can’t be seen like this.” He grunted as she near enough threw herself on him, wrapping her slender arms around his neck and pressing hot kisses against the burnt side of his face. The man pulled her, so she was at arm’s length and staring up at him hotly.

“That’s enough. Now, lets get you to bed.” 

“Only if you’ll be joining me.” She whispered, causing him to grit his teeth. He was a saint at this point in time for still attempting to reject the girl. Especially when her hands managed to find the laces of his breeches and untie them, slipping in and finding their way into his cod piece. 

“My lady.” He growled, gripping her wrist as she pumped him slowly and teasingly. 

“Tell me you don’t want it, Sandor and I’ll stop. I was bored to death in there and all I could think about was you snatching me up and fucking me against a wall somewhere.” She purred up at him, smiling like a feline. He panted as her hand got faster and faster, the crude noise of the flesh of her hand against the steely rod of his cock. Leaning an arm against the wall, he couldn’t bare to stop her as she knelt down and pulled the cod piece down so that his dick sprung free and she could only stare up at it in amazement. 

Her cheeks flushed even more than they were before as she leaned in, causing the beast of a man towering over her to growl out lowly and thread his gloved fingers throw her hair as she took his enormous girth into her mouth with struggle, feeling it slide down her throat as she relaxed her gag reflex. 

“Gods above, shit!” He gripped onto her head for dear life as he dared to look down at her, watching her eyelashes flutter as she looked up at him with wide eyes before moving her head, up down, in out. Every time she took him into her mouth, she would make swallow, causing the muscles in her throat to squeeze down on him, and every time she pulled him out, she would create a suction with her lips. 

“T-there’s no fucking way you’ve never done this before.” He panted, snarling at every move. She smiled up at him with her eyes and what she couldn’t fit of him in her mouth, she used her hand to pump the shaft, feeling the soft, stretchy skin move around what could only be described as an iron rod. 

The man felt his hips move involuntarily as he thrust back and forth, in and out of her mouth, the wet slapping sounds bringing him to ejaculate as he let out a string of deep guttural grunts and shot white, stringy ribbons of cum in her mouth, softening as he slipped out of her. He watched with interest and fascination as she swallowed his load, wiping her mouth and leaning up to give him a kiss. First, she kissed his top lip, then placed a soft kiss on his lower one before turning her head slightly and merging her soft, plump lips with his thin ones. 

The man grabbed the back of her head, forcing his tongue into her mouth, hearing her let out soft coos and moans when his tongue rubbed against her own. He could feel himself becoming hard again but tucked himself back in his breeches, hearing her whine in protest. He pulled her away. He could vaguely taste himself on her tongue.

“Right, that’s enough. You need to go to bed before you do anything else that you’ll regret. Come on.” He grunted as she twirled, hands clasped behind her back as if nothing had happened. He snorted and shook his head.

.

They had been in the Capital for quite a few weeks now and Lynnara, despite feeling her face heat up the next morning at what she’d done, had invited Sandor in when he’d come to check on her and dragged him to her in a desperate kiss, it wasn’t until after the tourney in honour of her father becoming hand that she spoke to him again. Her father had kept her busy having Septa Mordane school her thoroughly and harshly on the etiquette that was expected of high class, young women. 

She’d watched in horror as Gregor has nearly decapitated his horse with his giant sword and attempted to go after Loras Tyrell before Sandor had practically sprinted to throw himself in the way, blocking his brother’s sword with his own. 

“Leave him be!” He’d snarled as Loras scrambled backwards across the ground to get out of the way of the two fighting men. It went on for some time before Robert stood, anger in his eyes. 

“Stop this madness in the name of your King!” his voice boomed across the jousting arena and Sandor spun before plunging his sword into the ground and kneeling before Robert. Gregor’s sword missed his by the length of a hair and the man threw his sword before storming out but not before looking deep into Lynnara’s eyes. She could only watch, terrified as he turned back to look at her. She looked to her father who was already staring at her, eyes filled with worry. 

Sandor, who had also seen the exchange, stood and pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowing in anger as Loras moved over to him. 

“I owe you my life, Ser,” 

The Hound scoffed.

“I’m no Ser.” 

Loras grabbed his arm, holding it up before everyone cheered the two on. 

Lyn made eye contact with Sandor who bowed his head somewhat shyly and she felt a smile tugging at her lips at this newfound vulnerability. 

After the joust, King Robert held a feast where every man had enough meat, drink and women to having a fun night. Whereas the women watched mainly from the side lines as the men celebrated. 

Lyn watched as Arya ran amuck with a group of lower-class children and Sansa spoke to some of the young Ladies from noble houses, it brought a smile to Lyn’s lips to see her siblings having fun for once. 

“Pardon me, My Lady. But is this seat taken?”

She looked up to see a young man about her age wearing the Tarly sigil and she smiled up at him. 

“No, of course. Take a seat.” She said chirpily, feeling the heat of her second glass of wine rush to her head. The man was attractive, with a strong, handsome jaw and sharp cheekbones. He was tall and good looking, and he looked like he knew it. She took a sip from her goblet, scanning the banquet hall until her eyes landed on the one and only Sandor Clegane who, to no surprise, was already sending a foul glower in her direction. She smiled into her cup and turned to the man. 

“Lynnara Stark, My Lord. And your name is...?” She purred, extending her hand for him to kiss which he did eagerly, not expecting such an easy chase.

“Dickon Tarly, My Lady. And may I say that you are looking positively beautiful this evening.” 

Before she could reply or even have a chance to snort through her nose at his name, a hand clasped around her shoulder and she jumped in excitement. She turned her head to see the Hound snarling down at her. 

“Your presence is requested, My Lady.” He growled. She shrugged her shoulders before standing but not before Dickon Tarly decided to stand and square himself up to the Hound before him. 

“May I just say, dog, that when two nobles are talking it’s considered a great offense when interrupted without so much as a warning.” He spat, puffing out his chest like some bird of paradise about to perform a mating dance. Sandor simply looked the man up and down with narrowed eyes. 

“Dickless, was it? I’m a very busy man and if we’re being honest here, I wanna finish for the night so I can drink, fuck and kill. Now, I’ve already had a lot to drink out of the courtesy of the King which leaves me two more things I need to do.” He bent in, snarling at the pretty little noble. “I’ll give you one guess at which order I’ll do them to you in.”

Dickon was off before even muttering a reply, heading over to the far opposite of the banquet hall away from the terrifying man, with his tail tucked securely between his legs. Lyn held a hand up to her face, stifling a laugh as she looked up at the Hound who gave a her a nasty glare. He turned, stalking out of the hall with the girl in tow who looked around to see if they were being watched. It was quite late in the evening so everyone was drunk enough that they wouldn’t have to worry about being seen together.

.

Lyn was slammed up against the brick wall of the keep, the breath nearly being knocked from her lungs and she felt the sting of the jagged rock remain on her spine. Sandor slammed a hand next to her head. 

“Really? Trying to make me jealous with that little cunt?” He sneered at the girl below him. She smiled up at him sweetly.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Her voice cooed softly as her hands clasped together behind her back. The Hound straightened up never taking his dark eyes away from the pretty little thing before him. 

“So, what now, your daddy finds you a wealthy Lord to marry whilst you carry on being a little tease to entertain yourself in the meantime?” He growled before spinning her around, grabbing her waist and pulling her hips out, grinding himself against her ass, making her yelp out a gasp of surprise before he leaned in. “I don’t think so, little rabbit. I’m not good at sharing as you can probably imagine.” 

He bent down to pull the thin skirts of her gown up before stopping. She gave him a shy look over her shoulder whilst he stared down at her bare ass. She wasn’t wearing any undergarments whatsoever. The whole day she’d been naked as the day she was born under that dress. 

“You been like this the whole day?” He grunted, unlacing his breeches and pulling out his cock, he’d not been wearing a cod piece as of late. Lyn smiled as she nuzzled into the wall. 

“Today? I’ve never wore them, Ser Hound.” She grinned as she heard him pause before hearing him spit in his hand and run it over his dick before placing it in between her thighs and closing them tightly around himself. He grunted, grabbing the front of her neck and pulling her back into an arch as he began to pump himself in between the soft, supple flesh of her thighs. 

The girl cried softly as the soft, mushroom head kept catching on her cunt, on the nub between her folds that sent jolts of pleasure through her womb. Sandor grunted, the sound of skin smacking on skin as he thrust his hips to and fro, imagining what it would be like to fuck her tight little virgin cunny instead. 

“What are you thinking about?” She yelped and he glowered down at her, enjoying every little whimper and moan she released. His hands made their way under her arms and into the neckline of her gown where he toyed with her nipples with his index fingers, rolling the buds around in circles, up and down and pinching them. She cried out a sob of pleasure in return. 

“I’m thinking about how much I wanna fuck that little cunt of yours and make you mine.” He growled into her ear, one hand wrapping around her elegant neck as she grew close at his words. 

“Sandor, I want it.” She whimpered. The man paused before slowly thrusting again, closer to her cunt than physically possible. 

“Yeah?” He growled and she arched her back, as if almost desperately beckoning him to fill her. The girl nodded, panting and moaning as she felt her climax reach her. 

“Say it!” He snarled as she threw her head back. 

“Please, fuck me!” She cried and before she knew it, he’d spun her, tore her dress down the middle, hoisted her up onto one knee and shoved the head in before the rest followed. His hand went to her mouth as she let out a scream, sweat glistened on his forehead as he grits his teeth, the feeling of her tight virgin walls attempting to accommodate his size was more than he could stand. 

He grabbed her leg under the knee with one hand, still holding her mouth with the other which was now wet with tears and saliva, before pulling out, pushing back in and pulling out again, shooting his cum down her thigh, the blood that was covering his now flaccid cock mixed with the seed on the floor, turning it a pale pink. 

Lynnara fell to the floor, a hand on her stomach and fresh tears streaming down her cheeks as she panted, attempting to catch her breath. Sandor leaned on the wall, attempting to do the same before he tucked himself back in his breeches and helped the girl stand. 

“You alright, little one?” He ran a hand over her head, smoothing her hair in an almost affectionate manner. 

“Aye.” She panted, peeking up at him with one eye open, beginning to feel tired. He looked down at her softly before helping tie what was left of her dress back to her, just enough so it didn’t arouse suspicion.


	4. Naive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small list of songs I listened to whilst writing this if it helps with imagery and that. :) 
> 
> Paolo Nutini - Iron sky  
> Hooverphonic - Mad about you  
> Sam Fender - Play God  
> Mumford and sons - Broken Crown  
> Bon Iver - Holocene

He glowered at her from the corner of the throne room, watching her with eyes that felt like they could stare into her soul. It was an almost predatory glare that made her feel like the little rabbit that he so liked to compare her to. 

It was another hot day in Kings landing. The King was holding court, listening to the complaints and issues from local Lords and even members of the Keep who had requested more wine due to a shortage thanks to all of the feasts Robert had been hosting. This had definitely taken priority over the farmer who’d humbly approached him earlier asking more guards patrol the villages outside of the city where the poor man’s children had met their inevitable end due to an increased number of mountain lions. 

Lyn had walked through with her handmaidens and offered her father a smile which he returned with a nod of his head, perched next to the slumped Robert. 

Her smile fell, however, when she caught Sandor Clegane’s gaze. He stood beside the Prince in the assembly of Lords as tall and hard as a statue, only moving to readjust himself uncomfortably in the heat. And when Lyn fluttered her eyelashes. 

Her handmaidens giggled as they whispered to her when Jaime Lannister walked by, something Sandor observed begrudgingly. Especially when the small girl turned to look at the golden haired, beautiful cunt of a man. The hound snarled internally, choosing to keep his indifferent but stern facial expression as a front. 

It had been a while since he’d even so much as spoke a word to the girl, Joffrey had seen to that, keeping him busy enough so that he didn’t even have the time to so much as think of her during the day. Instead, he did so in his chambers at night with nothing but his hand to keep him company. 

He noticed that her hair had grown longer within her time in Kings landing, it trailed in soft, honeyed waves down the back of her lilac gown. The dress that was far too modest for a Lady like her; who was more of a devious temptress in his eyes as she walked out of the grand hall which seemed too grey and cold to even entertain the thought of holding such a summery beauty. Her handmaidens wittered to her the whole way before they reached out of ear shot. 

He had been entranced when their eyes had met, his steely dark ones capturing her large hazel orbs. She’d given him a smile. That fucking smile. The thought had him grimacing as he felt his trousers tighten, codpiece missing in a suppressed hope that he would come across her in one of the hallways and drag her into a nearby privy and allow her to suck his dick again. Maybe after he’d been to an inn in flea bottom and had a belly full of wine and salted meat. 

to his disgust, no such meeting had taken place. She’d kept to herself the past couple of weeks, instead choosing to send him far too innocent smiles, batting her eyelashes at him. 

“Come dog.” Joffrey had beckoned his hand as his father finished holding court with the last poor peasant begging for more coin to fund the loss of his crops after being robbed by bandits. He bowed his head and followed the young man who was making his way into the gardens. 

The sunlight hit him hard and he squinted. After spending so long in the shadows of the throne room, he felt practically blind, the heat was even worse than inside, and he felt like he was roasting alive in his armour. A notion he disliked quite a lot. Birds chirped as they nested in the trees and atop the canopies that shaded young lords and ladies who wondered the garden. Sandor could feel sweat glistening on the thick, matted scar that stretched from the side of his head to the top of his right eye and he watched as Joffrey stopped walking, reaching behind to nudge him. 

“Look, there’s your Bitch, dog. Doesn’t she look lovely in that gown?” The boy sneered, and Sandor pursed his lips, not liking where this was going. “Maybe you should go and say good afternoon. I’ll stand here and watch.” He snorted, crossing his arms. Sandor growled but bowed, making his way over to the Lady who sat beneath the canopy, eating lemon cakes and drinking tea with other young Ladies of Lords. 

The girl looked up with half a mouthful of cake, swallowing it down thickly as the other Ladies stopped talking and awkwardly looked anywhere but at the man who loomed over the table like a dark cloud in his near-black armour, probably disgusted at the sight of him. He couldn’t care less. His eyes were watching her throat bob, imagining the time when she’d so gratefully received and swallowed his cum. She smiled naively. 

“Hello, Hound.” 

He bowed his head.

“Prince Joffrey commands that I bid you good afternoon, my Lady.” His voice as rough as a whetstone against steel, a sound she knew all too well. Lynnara nodded her head slowly before looking over to the vicious cunt that made no attempt at hiding, instead giving her a royal wave and sneering from afar, behind potted plants and talking Lords. 

She smiled a little too falsely. 

“You may tell your Prince that his royal tunic has a milk stain on it from suckling his mother’s tit.” 

The other ladies gasped and looked to each other before excusing themselves and hurrying off with their handmaidens. A few looked back at her in disgust at her language and poor decorum. She didn’t give a toss. The hound barely cracked a smile. 

“That mouth will get you in trouble, my Lady.”

She looked to his crotch before averting her eyes to his face. 

“My mouth is the most talented part of my body, Ser Hound. But you should probably know that by now.” She purred, stirring a spoon lazily around her teacup and holding his gaze, as if challenging him. 

“Your cunt’s better.” He grunted, is it had been anymore quiet, there would be a few questionable glances and whispers their way. She feigned a gasp. 

“How crude, dog. Is that how you speak to young Ladies around here?” 

“Not exactly. But I see no lady here, just a whore hungry for cock.” He ran his teeth across his bottom lip, eyeing her. She smiled and cocked her head. 

“Hold your tongue, he’s coming over.” 

Joffrey all but sauntered over with a smirk on his handsome face, hand on the hilt of his sword that had probably never been used since being forged. The hound turned to look at his Prince who eyed Lady Stark. She bowed her head.

“My Queen.” 

Joffrey’s smirk disappeared as he turned a glower to his dog who bared stifled a snort. The Hound cleared his throat and he instead chose to focus his indifferent stare ahead. The boy let her snide jest go over his head and instead allowed the smirk to return to his face.

“How did you like my dog interrupting your quaint little tea party? He seems to have scared off your Lady friends. What a shame.” He feigned a pout. Lyn just smiled sweetly and crossed her fingers together. 

“No, they left because I told your ‘dog’ to tell you that you had a milk stain on your tunic from suckling at your mother’s tit.” 

His eyes downcast as he actually went to check his tunic before they became angry when she held in a laugh, turning his bitter scowl to her. He leaned over the table, pointing a ringed finger at her which she leaned back to avoid. 

“Just you wait, you little slut. Don’t think I don’t notice you getting all cosy with the dog. When I become King, my first command is that he rapes you in front of all of Kings landing and beheads you for your blatant treason!” He hissed like the venomous snake that he was. Sandor watched the Prince with distaste, knowing he means full well to follow through with his threats. Lyn grinned softly, never taking her eyes off of him. Standing from the table, she curtsied. 

“Whatever pleases you, my King.” 

Joffrey pursed his lips in rage as she sauntered off. The Hound looked at her with irritation in his eyes. She should heed his cautions and avoid the Prince altogether if she wanted to keep her head. The Queen was protective of her son and had people punished for doing less to the boy. 

.

It was loud in the inn, filled with drunks fist fighting, bards singing and whores all but fucking their patrons on bar stools. Sandor sat by himself in the corner on his second waterskin of wine, his vision swaying, and his cheeks flushed. A few times a woman or two had wandered over to offer their services and he’d growled at them to leave each time which they had done, and swiftly at that. There was only one woman on his mind and right now she probably lay in her large bed in her large chamber asleep of reading a book. He favoured the idea that she was awake and touching herself to thoughts of him, though. He gulped down more of the fruity but bitter red wine. 

He didn’t even raise his eyes as someone approached him. 

“I told you to fuck off, didn’t I?” He snarled, finally raising his half burned and scarred eyes before he bit back his next words. 

Lyn grinned down at him, graceful, lilac gown discarded for her tight and almost sinful leather riding gear. Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a braid, revealing her youthful round face. He breathed heavily through his nose, eyes darting around the room. 

“The fuck are you doing here you dumb bitch! If anyone should try and rape you-“ 

“Then I’m sure you’ll find it in your heart to come to a fair maiden’s rescue.” She smiled as she slid onto the bench across from his table, snatching his water skin from his hand and taking a deep drink, making a slight face at the taste which he snorted at. 

“Aye, you’re gonna be trouble for me, little rabbit.” He took it back, bringing it to his mouth and taking a drink of his own. The girl folded her arms over the table and leaned in, smiling the whole time. 

“Now I know where you sneak off to when you’re not crushing skulls or wiping the prince’s papered arse.” She sneered and he gave her a stern look. 

“You ought to watch yourself, Little Stark. I warned you before and I’ll warn you again. Kings landing is a place full of scheming cunts. It’s the only way to survive. And you’d better learn to play the game, or you’ll find yourself with your throat slit or worse.” He growled. She cocked her head playfully. 

“Unless I’m mistaken, Sandor, it sounds as if you care deeply for me.” 

The man scoffed. 

“You’ve got a tight cunt and a pretty face. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste just yet.” He took another drink and she smiled, leaning her head in her hand. 

“Is that all I am to you? A good fuck?” He could practically hear the laughter in her voice. 

“Why, did you think I would take you as a fucking wife? You’re mad.” 

Lyn smirked, playing with her braid. 

“Am I that detestable to you, Hound? Would I make such a poor wife?” 

The man narrowed his eyes at her, suddenly unable to tell if she was jesting or being serious. Her feline grin told him otherwise. Was she teasing him again? He couldn’t tell. 

“If I didn’t get whipped through the streets, your father would definitely find it worthy of a laugh if I came to him with a marriage proposal.” He snorted and he immediately felt a sense of unease as her smile dropped. She looked him dead in the eyes, a frown marring her perfect, pink lips. Maybe she was mad. The girl seemed hesitant. 

“Don’t tell me you actually thought it possible?” 

“Well, why not? What would be so strange about that?” For the first time in a long time, she seemed to grow irritable and desperate. His eyes grew uncharacteristically soft. She truly was a child at heart. He reached a gloved hand forward and tipped her chin up so that her angry gaze met his calm eyes. 

“You’re the first-born daughter of the Warden of the North and now Hand of the King. I’m the second born son to a lesser, tarnished house that serves the Lannisters with nothing. Not a penny.” He sounded as if he was almost scolding her and she hated it. It made her feel young and stupid which he probably thought she was. He let go of her, standing from the table and tying his water skin back at his belt. His shadow was cast over her and she stared up at his with those round, innocent eyes. 

“And don’t forget what I am. I murdered your Butchers boy in cold blood. Who would want to wake up to a fucker like that every morning?” He growled, eyes turning to a glower. Crossed her arms. 

“I should hate you. But I don’t.” She hissed to herself and he wondered if her words were even meant for him. He held a hand out to her. 

“Come on. Let’s get you back to the Keep, my Lady.”

She avoided his eyes as she took his hand begrudgingly. 

.

Once outside of the Keep, she turned to him, eyes saddened. 

“I suppose this is a goodbye in a way, then.” 

The man stared down at her, the great hulk that he was practically dwarfed the girl who was even smaller than her younger sister. The Keep was deathly quiet, only the sound of crickets echoed through the gardens. He placed a hand behind her head, stroking his hand through her soft hair. 

“Aye, I suppose it is. Fun as it was.” 

Lyn rocked on her feet, fidgeting incessantly. He almost wanted to put a hand on her shoulder to stop her from doing it. She stared up at him with those eyes that he so cursed, almost like she was trying to test his patience. He grunted when her hands stretched up and made contact with the skin of his thick throat, her arms slithering around it as she leaned her face up to him. 

“Please, just one more kiss.” She whispered in his ear breathily. He shivered before nodding slowly and allowed her nose to brush his, her lips capturing his bottom one as they melded together. He growled as her arms tightened around his neck and he cupped the back of her head with his big, scarred hand, tilting her head so the kiss deepened, becoming more passionate and desperate. He grunted as her tongue slipped into his mouth, rubbing and twisting with his, their spit mingling as she mewled like a cat in heat into the kiss. 

“Ah!” She whimpered when he bit her tongue, making her retract before he reached down, sliding his strong arm behind her knees, lifting her into his arms, forcing a yelp out of her mouth as he carried her down to the servants entrance. 

By the time they reached his chambers, she was covered in bites and possibly bruises from where he had been paying more attention to sucking on her lips and neck than where he was going, crashing her into the walls. 

He slammed the door shut behind him and dropped her, nearly ripping her leather tunic off before bending down and sucking a small breast into his mouth, tongue flicking over the nipple eagerly. 

“Fuck!” She yelped, holding his head to her chest, threading her fingers through his scraggly, dark hair. His room was dark but lit by sconces and had she been any less desperate to fuck the man suckling on her tit, she would have paid more attention to her surroundings. 

He let go of her breast with a pop and pulled the nearly ripped tunic off of her before desperately unlacing her breeches as she unclasped his armour with quick, shaky hands. It fell to the floor with a bang and she instantly caught the stench of sweat, grease and body odour which had never smelt more seductive. He crouched down, pulling her hide breeches down her pale legs, his mouth immediately enclosing around her cunt after plunging a finger into her already slick hole as she mewled out. His jaw bobbed up and down as his tongue rubbed, licked and moved sinfully over her clit inside of his mouth as he closed his eyes, growling, feeding on her sweet little noises of pleasure. 

She cried out and held his strong shoulders as she came, clenching her teeth as tears pricked at her eyes. 

He pulled back, watching as a string of saliva and her cum threaded between his chin and her cunt. His cock strained painfully against his breeches as she felt behind herself for his bed, sitting herself down and pulling him by the hips towards herself. He let out a short laugh as she reached into the front and pulled him out, licking hard up the underside of his already nearly blue cock. He growled, wrapping his hands in her hair when she took him all the way down past her gag reflex like she’d done so eagerly before.

“Where the fuck did you learn to suck a cock like that?” He snarled as she tightened her throat and tonsils around his throbbing, wet head before sucking him out with a pop and pumping him with her hand quickly, the wetness of her saliva allowing her fists to pump up and down at a slippery speed which made his balls clench. He hissed. 

“You don’t really think yours was the first cock I sucked, do you?” 

He didn’t ask anymore questions, just gripped her wrist hard when she went too quick. 

“Don’t or I’ll fucking finish right here.” He snapped before pushing her down against the best and spreading her legs harshly, staring down at her cunt before leaning down and pressing his bulking hips in between her soft, small thighs, crouching his knees to even be able to line himself up at her level. He didn’t miss the slightly nervous look she gave him, undoubtedly fearful it would hurt like the first time, to which he leant down and pressed a gentle but empty kiss to her forehead, trapping her between his arms as he pressed forward, his cock sinking into her as he gritted his teeth, her tight cunt flesh squeezing hold of him and making it difficult for him to even move any further. Lynnara arched her back and fisted the blankets, face curled in pain as tears welled. She felt like she was being ripped in two, he was so big. 

He began moving his hips, slowly at first as if testing the waters and grunting when he began speeding up, hips humping in between her legs, a slapping sound of wet flesh echoing through the room as his cock slipped with difficulty in and out of her wet, hot cunt amongst the noises of his grunting and seething and the bed rocking. 

The Hound leaned forwards and began whispering in her ear how great she felt and how it would get good for her soon, but all Lyn could feel was hot, searing pain as he tore through her each time.

He leaned up, placing his knees on the bed and pulling her buttocks into his lap as if she weighed nothing more than a bag of flour, watching as her eyes widened at the new found pleasure the position gave her as her hips were raised from the bed. 

“Oh!” She cried repeatedly as he wildly humped into her like the dog he was. He growled and curled one hand around her neck, hard enough to keep her in place but gentle enough to not strangle her. 

Her hips instinctively rolled desperately and erratically to meet with his as he rocked into her, eyes fixed on her small, bouncing perky breasts that bounced enthusiastically with every hard thrust of his pelvis. He averted his eyes to her face, to her eyes that watched his cock plunging in and out of her, to her plump lips that hung open to release the melodic moans and cries that could bring any man to cum alone. 

“Cum inside of me!” She cried, hair sprawled around her round face, her hazel eyes pleading him. 

“You sure?” He grunted, sweat glistening on his brow and over his scar as she nodded eagerly, throwing caution to the wind. He drove on, hands at her hips and turning her onto her side as he supported her leg on his broad shoulder, bending the other at the knee and straddling it. He hunched over and resumed his humping, cock driving in and out, in and out, at a speed not even known to man. She cried out loudly, her cunt squeezing onto him as he let out a snarl, shoving himself in so deep that it nearly hurt her, ribbons of cum spurting from his tip inside of her as he clutched the thigh that was straddling his shoulder, nails biting into her skin. Involuntarily, her hips bounced back and forth, cunt trying to swallow his cum in as deep as it could. 

His shoulders heaved as he closed his eyes, the feeling of his high still clouding his mind as his cock softened and slipped out of her, a trail of hot cum following as it pooled beneath the division in her buttocks. Standing with shaky legs, he wobbled to the wash basin and grabbed a cloth, washing himself off before throwing it onto the bed. Lyn didn’t move, chest rising up and down as she attempted to catch her breath and take in everything that had just transpired, an arm covering her eyes. 

Sandor pursed his lips together in a frown before moving back to the bed and grabbing the cloth in his large hand, pressing it to her cunt, making her jump from the coolness of it as she was brought back to reality, lowering her arm and watching as he wiped their intermingled cum away from her. 

She smiled as he pulled the blankets back and held her arms out for him to hook his own under and pull her up with him, taking her between his strong arms where she nuzzled her head comfortably. 

“I love you, Sandor.” She breathed, a whisper so quiet that it could have been confused for the flame of a candle flickering to and fro. He pretended he hadn’t heard it and stroked his large hand down her long chestnut tresses, placing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Shh, go to sleep, little Lady.” He whispered into her hair, inhaling the soft smell of blue winter rose oils which contrasted so harshly against the smell of blood, body odour and grease coming from himself. He let out a deep exhale as he contemplated everything that had happened up to now. His sister, oh how he wished he could remember her face. His cunt of a brother who was still out there somewhere breathing, which made him uneasy as it was. Serving the Lannisters and the little prick of a Prince who’d have Lynnara Stark tortured and executed one day for her treason. And meeting Lynnara Stark. 

The girl so innocent and yet, as sinful as a starved whore. In another world, he would be unburned, they would be married. She would give him strong sons and beautiful daughters, all ten of them. She would crochet with his sister in the gardens of Clegane Keep, a mastiff and her Lynnara Stark’s dumb, crippled wolf at their feet as he tended to Stranger in the stable, watching his family with pride. 

Things that could never be for what he was and what she was born into. He closed his eyes with a frown on his face and his brows furrowed. It was a life that he would surely be dreaming of that night. Unbeknownst to him, the girl on his chest would be sharing that dream with him.

 

And with that, they slept together until the light of the morning awoke them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope you guys all enjoyed this chapter! It took me aaaages to write and I'm so grateful for your lovely and kind comments, I truly love you all. I hope the relationship between Sandor and Lyn's becoming most apparent and how they view one another. Thank you so much for all of your support, please let me know what you think, I look forward to


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